


Don't Go.

by mormoriarty



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mormoriarty/pseuds/mormoriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original work that came out of nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Go.

**Author's Note:**

> I believe there is one swear word.

He clasped her fingers between his own; the movements desperate like a drowning sailor clinging to a piece of driftwood in a storm. Desperate, despite his smiling face. His eyes seemed to flicker in the dim candlelight, going from warm chocolate brown to pitch black. “Lucy,” he whispered, his voice pitched low and tinged with regret. “Lucy,” he began again, looking pained. She knew what Andrew was going to say, and she didn’t want to hear it. Wasn’t she enough? Wasn’t her love enough for him? “I just-”

With tears in her eyes, she took her hand out of his and caressed the side of his face, pulling him close for what could have been the last time. She captured his lips in a fiery kiss, tongues twining and lips hungry and shared breath between them. A single tear ran from the corner of her eye and dripped into her mouth. And she could taste the salt off his tongue.

“Please,” she whispered against his still-pursed lips, their foreheads pressed together as they pulled apart to take in a shuddering breath. “Please don’t go,” she pleaded, and she could feel herself unraveling, as easily as if someone had pulled a thread out of a knot and just let it go, breaking slowly in the moonlight. “Andrew, please. I can- no, we can, we can work this out together. Please, Andrew, don’t leave.” Andrew shrugged out of her embrace and stood up. She looked into his eyes; they looked cold and hard and fathomless and so black. He ran a hand through his short brown hair with a sigh and picked up his coat.

“Don’t miss me,” he called almost nonchalantly from the door of their apartment, not sounding sad at all, not sounding sorry, not even turning back to look at her.

Time froze as he pulled the door open. She wanted to jump up and scream and stop him and tell him that she loved him and make sure that he wouldn’t leave. Her heart felt like it had dropped into her stomach, but she couldn’t move. Lucy thought maybe she gasped as he slammed the door shut. Then time creaked, splintered, and shattered into a thousand pieces.

Just like her heart.

“Andrew,” she sobbed; the sound of the door slamming still resounding in the close quarters. Like some funeral chime, she thought. She could still feel the warmth of his body against hers, the timbre of his voice whispering in her ear, the way his long, pale fingers sent prickles of gooseflesh up her arms.

And now he was gone.

\-----

She thought that he appeared on her TV one morning as she was doing the dishes. The rookie news anchor on screen consulted the teleprompter in front of him, his hair gelled stiff and his smile irritatingly white as he introduced himself, then the news story. “Major traffic delays due to a lorry pileup at Manchester’s A57, also known as Mancunian Way, three dead, fifteen injured,” he said; his smile a little less wide now, trying desperately to be serious. His American accent slurred over the word “Mancunian”. The screen changed to show a picture of multiple lorries, flipped on their sides and veered in and towards a ditch. There were cars all banged up, lying around the lorries and in the ditch, and for a second, she thought she spotted Andrew’s car. He had worked so hard for it, all excited like a little boy with his own toy car when he had finally bought it. A maroon 2008 Mini Cooper with a little Ireland flag sticker in the lower left corner of the windshield; she’d recognize it anywhere- though there wasn’t much of the windshield anymore, and the hood had crumpled up to reveal the inner workings of the engine. If that was his car, Andrew was surely dead. She held her head in her hands.

“The motorway will be closed until further notice, until the collision damage is taken care of. Ambulances have sent the injured to hospital, stay tuned for further news.”

 

\-----

He showed up on the doorstep one night, and she thought she was hallucinating. Lucy shook off the plastered smile she’d grown used to, and pulled him close. “Andrew,” she breathed, somewhere near the skin of his neck. “Where the fuck were you?” And now she was laughing and crying, probably dripping tears down the collar of his coat, the same one he had had that night, but she didn’t care. Neither did Andrew apparently, for he clutched onto her like a dying man and wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb.

When she could finally speak, it was to say: “I thought you were dead, Andrew.”

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? I really want feedback! This is one of my first original works, like actually not fanfiction! :)


End file.
